hollywood housewife

the silly is the best part

By Sunday evening I was over it. When The Gorilla asked why I was grumpy, I said something about the sheer amount of quality time we'd spent together. Weekends are usually reserved for family, but with last week's houseguests then a tummy bug, there had been a lot of hours of being in the house all together. I was itching for some time to myself, without interruptions, without chubby arms reaching upward.

So I left the house in a hurry - late, but wearing lipstick - and sped through Hollywood for the last showing of Expressing Motherhood. I took the glass of wine offered, sank into the theater seat, and I was tearing up before the show even started. The cast bios alone got me. Have I mentioned I was a little on edge?

companions

Welcome to Mommy Mondays, the one day of the week that I let myself drone on about my kids.  In the span of one week in October, my daughter turns three and my son turns one. 

She is, first and foremost, her daddy’s girl.

On her first day of preschool, she asked “you’re not staying...?” with hesitation.  But she hasn’t paused since.

She loves to take a rest in her room alone.  Often I hear her jumping off the bed over and over instead of napping.

Her favorite food is chicken and rice soup, she’ll eat two full bowls in one sitting. 

She insists on wearing a dress every single day.  A dresser full of shorts and shirts stays mostly untouched, while all of her hanging items have frayed and stained long ago.

She was sort of an aloof baby, but sometime during toddlerhood she took to cuddling.  Now after she’s been tucked in for the night, she hollers that she wants “to talk about things.”  Things are usually cupcakes.  Occasionally ice cream.

Her heart beats in sync with her daddy, but it’s her momma that she imitates.  Phrases, mannerisms, high heels.  She is always watching and listening.

She is rowdy, not nearly as delicate as her skirted appearance suggests.  She runs and tumbles and wants to take a turn on the biggest slide.

After all her parent’s worry, she is her baby brother’s number one fan.  She keeps one eye on him at all times, asking his whereabouts first thing in the morning and patting him through the crib every night. 

They are companions.

He is, first and foremost, in love with his momma.

His whole body lights up when there is music in the air.  He sways and claps to even the softest tune. 

There isn’t a button within a five mile radius that he hasn’t pushed.  We find the microwave on, the television deprogrammed.  He gives us his toothy grin.

He was slow to crawl, but now he gets everywhere he needs to go and then some.  He doesn’t wriggle to get away.  He likes to be close to whoever is in the room.  He curls around your legs like a cat, and sits comfortably in a lap for long stretches.

He’s a giggle box. So much is funny in his world, the rest of the room lightens with him.

He is as laid back as she is intense.

They are companions.     

three quarters of the year shift

Mondays at HH are dedicated to all things Mommy.  It's the one thing you can count on around here.  Usually. 

This one, he is my heart.  His gaze is simple.  His eyes beam with love in my direction.  He is the calmest child until I walk into the room and then he wiggles and kicks until I pick him up, where he instantly stills and coos.

happy memorial day!

*all photos by andy duty photography

sleeping arrangements

Welcome to Mommy Mondays, where parenting is the most important thing you'll ever do. And also not a big deal.

Pirate is three months old and at night he sleeps swaddled in a co-sleeper bassinet about two feet from my face.  I like it this way.  I like to hear him breathe.  I like that big sigh babies make when they're drifting off into a deeper sleep.  I like rolling over in the morning and seeing his sweet little eyes blinking back at me.  He doesn't cry when he wakes, so I never know how long he's been staring at the bed or the ceiling, waiting for one of us to look at him.

I feel like I could comfortably sleep with my baby within arms reach until the end of time.  The Gorilla, however, is ready to move him on down the all.  Federal Express, no signature needed.  I understand his point, especially now that Pirate is sleeping through the night, from about 11pm to 8am.  The reasoning for keeping him in the room with us at all was to make night feedings more convenient.  And now there are no more night feedings.  But I'm not ready.

We moved Pigtail to the big crib when she was even younger than Pirate is now.  She wasn't even sleeping through the night yet, and I was definitely happy to reclaim our adult space.  But with Pirate, I know it just may be the last time that there is a sleeping baby's breath so close to me in the wee hours.  Maybe not, but maybe.  Probably. 

There are so many things that are precious and monumental about your first child, things that might get lost with the second one.  Unless the second one is also your last.  And then a whole different set of things seem precious and monumental. 

Pigtail has taken to her big girl bed in her big girl room like a champ.  So now, there truly is no reason for Pirate not to follow her down the hall.  Except for my wimpy heart.  I know it's got to happen soon.  But I plan to keep begging The Gorilla for just a few more days...

pirate at three months

Welcome to Mommy Mondays, the one day of the week I let myself drone on about my kids.

He turned three months old last week. 

He's so quiet, so easy, that sometimes I forget he's in the room.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but he's literally the easiest baby I've ever been around. 

things i can't live without during the newborn phase

Welcome to Mommy Mondays, the one day of the week when I drone on about parenthood.

It's a fact that around six to eight weeks post-birth, the momma starts to feel like she's "starting to come out of the fog."  Then, around four to six months, she realizes that no, now she's really coming out of the fog.  Finally, between nine and twelve months post-delivery, the momma thinks to herself, "Good gracious, where have I been the past year?  Welcome back, me!"

At least that's how I've experienced it.  It's all about hormones.  And consistent hours of sleep.

So, speaking from the first baby steps of new momma-ness, here are a few things I couldn't have done without since October:

Donut Shop coffee for the Keurig

The only two times I've ever had coffee consistently was when I had newborns.  Even in my most collegiate journaling-in-coffee-shop days, I never liked the bitter taste of java.  I've always had to disguise it with chocolate or tons of cream and sugar.  Everything that makes pure coffee snobs wrinkle their noses. 

My husband is obsessed with the Keurig, and the Donut Shop flavor came in a variety pack.  I tried it, I liked it, it is now getting me through the mornings after the sleepless nights. 

The Total Baby App

Rachel told me about this app for the iPhone that takes all the guesswork out of the bleary-eyed twenty-four hour schedule of a newborn.  It takes just a couple of seconds to click in when the baby last ate, slept, diapered, bathed.  Since I can rarely - even on the best of days - remember which side I nursed last, this has been really helpful to me.  It also keeps a cumulative record of how much the baby is eating and sleeping throughout, so I can tell the pediatrician. 

Total Baby has been my memory for the past seven weeks.

Speaking of nursing, I don't leave the house without my Lily Padz.  Well, okay, I have left the house without them and decided never to do that again.  But that's another story for another day, were I ever to get up the courage to tell it. 

The Lily Padz are way more comfortable than the disposable kind, which itched and drove me crazy.  They clean up easily and I don't even notice they're there. 

I wear them under my favorite soft nursing bra and in conjunction with my favorite non-sticky nipple cream. 

(I am trying so hard not to cringe under the table right now.  But if this is helpful for even one person, it's worth my extreme embarrassment.  You can read more about my thoughts on breastfeeding here.)

Moving on to safer topics, I am completely obsessed with the aden + anais bamboo collection.  All of the aden + anais blankets are great, but the bamboo ones are the softest and easily my favorites.  We have four or five that float around the house for various needs.

We're also pretty partial to the First Favorites line from Gap.  They're soft, the buttons aren't hard to deal with (although I do prefer a zipper), and there's always a sale on Gap online.   

So far, so good.  We'll see if my favorite product picks with my daughter (listed here and here) hold up with my son.  You can see a list of my favorite baby products by clicking here. 

Anything you think I'm missing or need to check out?

Some affiliate links included.  This does not affect my opinion in any way. 

everythingness

Welcome to Mommy Mondays, the day I give myself permission to blather on about my kids: 2-year-old Pigtail and 1-month-old Pirate.  Sleep-deprived typos are part of the territory.

 

Between toddler potty-training and a baby boys tendency to spray, I feel like my body and my life is covered with a thin layer of bodily fluids. 

Toss in burpy spit up, a leaking chest, and that same toddler's penchant for nighttime vomiting, and we're just one runny nose away from having all the liquid bases covered. 

The grossest part is that none of it bothers me.  Much.

My mom has always said that taking care of children is a joy as long as you don't have anything else on your agenda.  She's right, of course.  I get more frustrated or flustered by spilled juice, temper tantrums, and the days general derailment when I have something else I'm trying to accomplish at the same time, like cooking dinner, or cleaning out the closet, or perusing Pinterest.  When I succomb to the only priority that hour being the care of the people in my home, we're all happier.  

You can't do that all the time, though.  You can't even do that most of the time.  Multi-tasking your different roles while maintaining individuality is what the twenty-first century is all about, isn't it?  But for now, I'm taking advantage of the sleeplessness and the space others give you when there's a newborn.  Our days are long and slow and most To Do's are met with a shrug.

This Nothingness is the only way to stay sane during this Everythingness.

*

PS - Our lazy attempts at potty-training have been unsuccessful.  If you have any thoughts on the subject, I'd appreciate the advice in the comments.  Hopefully in a few weeks I'll be able to report back...something.

pirate's delivery story

Welcome to Mommy Mondays, my designated day of the week to dissect all things pertaining to parenthood.  As of early October, I'm now a mom of two.  Which makes me an expert.

It's just not as exciting a tale as Pigtail's dramatic entrance into the world.

For the last trimester, baby boy had been measuring big.  Really big.  I was terrified I was going to have a ten pounder on my hands and my body does not seem equipped for that kind of pressure.  So in my 39th week, we decided to induce.

Having now experienced a surprise delivery and an induction, I can't really say which I prefer.  There are pros and cons to each.  I was definitely more prepared with the induction, which has done a lot for my mental state.  The house was organized, my nails were done.  But the induction hurt more, I think.  (Not the recovery, mind you.  Just the delivery).

We checked in to the hospital on Tuesday night at midnight.  I got that needle stuck in my back right away and the small loveseat in the room changed into a cot-like bed for The Gorilla.  Poor thing was suffering through a nasty cold, which was bad timing all around, especially since he so rarely gets sick. 

As far as spaces in which to labor, our room had the most beautiful view of the Hollywood Hills.  I don't know why, but there was something very comforting about watching people walk and drive through LA from the hospital window.  It makes you feel less isolated, a bonus since I find childbirth to be very lonely, no matter how many people are in the room.

(If you happen to watch the Rachel Zoe project on Bravo, I noticed that we shared the same delivery room.  Oh, Hollywood.)

I labored through the night with little to nothing noteworthy.  At 8am, the doctor arrived and broke my water.  We thought things would move fairly quickly after that. 

They did not.

One side of my epidural worked better than the other side, so for hours I kept trying to even that out, to no avail.  My parents - who had flown in from Oklahoma the day before - arrived in the afternoon, unfortunately around the same time that my pain level cranked up about ten notches.  From 3pm to 5pm are hours that I'll gladly block from my mind soon.  Lots of pain and groaning and eventually tears.  To this day I don't understand why my epidurals (for either birth) didn't numb correctly.  Or why, for both births, when it was time to push a doctor arrived to give me a extra "push" dose and all of the sudden all was right with the world.  It's very strange and none of my other friends have had this experience.

But around 6pm, it only took a few pushes for Pirate to make his grand entrance.  I was in love, relieved, and exhausted.  In that order.  That part of the birth experience appears to be universal. 

We had the most wonderful delivery nurse.  If this were a place for toasts, I would raise a glass high for A., who made me feel special and cared for and not stupid for all twelve hours of her shift. 

After that everything was pretty ho hum.  Not for me, I was enamoured with my new baby, but for story telling purposes there's not much more to see here.  I spent the next couple of days in a plastic hospital bed, with a window that looked out into a courtyard, watching terrible E! tv.  I almost never watch E! normally, but my brain was so tired and I just wanted something mindless.  The Kardashian wedding fit that bill, as did a new show about the real lives of soap stars. 

Friday morning we were released into the LA wilderness with our son.  It was a sunny October day, just short of exactly two years from the day we brought our daughter home.  This time we arrived home in a different car, to a different house, to a beaming big sister. 

The very best kind of time marching on.

not sad, joyful

A friend of mine sent me a few screen shots from some old video footage she came across while working. 

It's from a behind-the-scenes camera from my husband's first movie.  I look very young.  I was very young.  I'm in a lot of the footage from that movie, hair in a ponytail looking frazzled, out of my element, and completely exhilarated.  

She sent me these particular pictures because they're of me and our friend, our family member, who we lost tragically in June.  In the shots, Ryan and I are laughing hysterically as I try to remove tar and feathers from his bare back.  Then he picks me up, covering me in tar and feathers and goop and laughter.  Her subject line was "Not sad, joyful!!"

I have a lump in my throat thinking about Ryan, and about my friend who has sacrificed much to spend the last couple of months working on a tribute to him.

My ten year anniversary of moving to Los Angeles was in August.  I meant to write about it.  I wanted to get all reflective and maybe weepy, list the things I've learned.  Instead I was uncomfortably pregnant, and busy, and my heart was preoccupied with family illness.  

Several times I've thought, "I should really have a good sit-down with myself, parse out the last decade, toast to it and all it has brought."  But I haven't.  This seems overwhelming to me, like my heart might break over all the emotion and even just the passage of time.  

This year, with all its lip-biting and hand-wringing and outright sobbing, has made me feel very mortal.

The arrival of our sweet-natured, long-fingered son is the most natural thing.  He prefers to be held, always, all day, so I've been kissing his velvety face and neck at every chance.  Not because I'm "soaking it all in" or because I'm worried that "this phase goes so fast," but because I like it.  

Not sad, joyful.